Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival)

by Julia Shupe

  It was funny. She’d really never considered herself the type, had never considered that she might be made of strong enough stock, but the visuals held a certain rustic romance that intrigued her. To her, they were a shimmering set of images with filigreed edging. To her, they meant the difference between a comfortable life inside a well-appointed shelter, or a dangerous one out in the elements, one finger always on the trigger.

  Perhaps when the noise was quieted and the excesses of everyday life were reduced to the barest of necessities, the germ of the human soul could take root and flourish in a different way. Perhaps they’d find a deep sense of peace and fulfillment that many who skirted at the edges and surfaces of life were never truly able to find.

  All these things they would do together, alone, at the top of their mountain. They’d journal their findings and keep a careful log of items they’d come to wish they’d stocked, and at the end of the thirty days they would re-join society and set out to obtain the items they’d forgotten.

  “We have time,” Liam had assured, “let’s make sure we get it right.”

  And wholeheartedly she’d agreed. Actually, she had to admit to herself that she found the process captivating. It was an exercise that she wished she’d done as a younger woman. To actually purge and pare down the seemingly endless list of wants to a concise list of needs had been a humbling process. She’d never realized just how much she took for granted, and just how little in life was truly essential. It had been a scrutiny of the self, an analysis of the ego, and an exercise in maturity. It had also bonded her to Liam in a way she’d never experienced with another man. Most people spoke of living, growing old, and dying with their partner, but she and Liam were actually planning for just that, and in a way that was most substantive.

  She turned from the window and observed his profile. He’d threatened twice to cut his hair, but she hadn’t allowed it. She loved his imperfect ponytail, and the way his left eye was slightly lower than his right. She loved the way he pursed his lips when he pondered a thing, and pulled at his earlobe, which blossomed red when he was embarrassed. She loved that he took all of this so seriously, and admired that he’d had the courage and forethought to see what others hadn’t. She also loved that his acceptance of her pregnancy had been immediate and absolute. He’d be an exceptional father.

  A loud thwack against her window focused her thoughts. Instinctively she cowered from it, nearly hopping onto the center console. She heard Liam yell and felt the car swerve, as they tried in vain to steer clear of the hand that had slapped against the passenger door. Just outside her window, five teenage boys stood and eyed the half-eaten sandwich in her lap and the boxes in the backseat.

  “Stay calm Liv,” Liam asserted between clenched teeth.

  She watched the small gang begin to circle the car like a pack of wolves. What could she and Liam do to protect themselves out here in the middle of the freeway? There was really nowhere for them to go. Whatever situation had stopped the traffic up ahead was causing a bumper-to-bumper situation behind.

  “What are they going to do?” she breathed.

  “What can they do? Its not like we’re alone out here Liv. We’re in a line of traffic with authorities no more than four hundred feet ahead. They’re just trying to intimidate. They’ll move on.”

  Despite his calming presence she still felt the hairs lift along her arm. This was exactly why they’d taken such precautions with the ark. They’d never let anyone inside their cabin. Even when Liam had first shown her the massive supply room, and even after she’d suggested they double it in size, they’d taken every preventative measure they could think of to ensure its secrecy. They’d shopped for supplies in neighboring towns, sometimes in bordering states. They’d ordered from different online providers, making sure they didn’t order too much of any one thing from a single retailer. They’d even completely unpacked the existing ark and locked the supplies in the guest room before they’d allowed the contractor to enter the home to build out the second half of it.

  “Planning to can our own jams and jellies, store them in this room, and build out the counter and front of the shop in this section,” Liam had lied with a shift of his eyes and a clumsy wave of his arms.

  God, he was a terrible liar, and she remembered how the contractor had surreptitiously peered at his surroundings, at the ‘front of the shop’ that actually maintained no advantageous frontage to streets, walkways, or ample parking facilities. Theirs was a single-lane private dirt road that meandered along the side of a mountain in a series of dangerous switchbacks and hairpin curves. The contractor had either thought them fools, or hadn’t bought the ruse at all, and rightfully so. Jam and jelly? Here? Oh, yeah. Fabulous business plan. She frowned. In retrospect, they could have come up with something a bit more believable.

  The contractor had coughed his agreement to the job into his fist and kept his opinions to himself. After all, their money was as green as the next man’s, and they’d paid it in cash. He was no fool either.

  In the end they’d found his work to be superb and their ark to surpass all of their previous imaginings. With proper organization and methodical arranging, the ark was a vast reservoir, its capacity much larger than the needs of a family of three. And it was theirs. They had planned for it. They had worked for it. They had liquidated both of their entire lives’ savings for it. And they’d let no one take it away.

  The young boys were still circling the car and Olivia tried to catch the attention of drivers in other vehicles, but they were careful to preserve oblivious and stoic expressions.

  “Hey man!” This from the tallest, a reed-thin teen with torn jeans and the tattooed conical snout of a great white shark peeking from behind the curve of his throat. He pounded the fleshy part of a flat fist against the front window.

  “How about you get us into Tennessee?” His eyes darted to Olivia’s swollen belly and a wry smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not askin’ old man. Open the doors and sneak us across the border or things are about to get very uncomfortable for your wife.”

  One of the smaller boys hopped onto the hood of the car, dropped to all fours, and peered into the window with narrowed eyes. Though Olivia was attempting to convey an impassive façade, she let slip a faint squeal of surprise.

  “Liam,” she hissed in warning. “Sneak them into Tennessee? What are they talking about?”

  Without pause he reached under the seat, fumbled, and pulled free a small revolver, and tapping it gently against the steering wheel of the car, he bravely met the direct gazes of each boy.

  Olivia was dumbfounded and struggled to keep her composure. A gun? Liam? She swallowed and jerked her gaze from its sleek black barrel to the circle of young men. Needless to say they were moving along. She wrenched the rearview mirror and surreptitiously watched as they peered into various car windows and kicked at tires. Damn menaces! They had little imagination and even littler resourcefulness. The best they could think to do to help themselves was harass others. She cursed under her breath. The world was full of people like this. It always had been and always would be. There were those who were victims and those who were victors, those who were feeble and those who were strong, those who would always achieve and those who would always steal or mooch. It was unavoidable.

  She turned to her husband, her mouth slightly agape, and eyed the gleaming weapon in his hand. “Where’d you get that?”

  He unclenched his fist, which was wrapped tightly around the handle, and stared at his open palm. “I have many,” he dared as he met her astonished gaze. “We. I mean we have many. Many guns, and many rounds of ammunition too. It’s a necessity, Olivia.” He nodded toward the rearview mirror. “Don’t you agree?”

  She let out the breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding and mopped her sweaty brow with her kerchief. An inappropriate laugh threatened to bubble from her lips. “I’m not complaining. Really. I’m just surprised you’ve never shown it to me.”

  He shr
ugged. “I guess I didn’t want you to think about violence, didn’t want you to feel unsafe. I want you to connect the cabin to feelings of security and confidence. I want you to think of it as a stronghold and not so much as a place we’ll need to defend.”

  Rubbing her swollen belly in slow circles, she tried to assuage his fears. “Like I said, I’m not complaining. I’d just rather you didn’t keep anything from me. We can’t afford to keep secrets from one another. We’ve too long a life ahead of us with none but the company of each other. Let’s not waste time hiding things.” She pushed herself higher into her seat and tried to make out the situation ahead, looming ever closer by the moment. “Besides, we will have to defend the cabin. You know that right? Those boys…they’re nothing compared to what will roam these streets and hillsides if things continue to deteriorate any further. Look at all these people! At these empty cars.”

  All around them cars had died and been abandoned. It wasn’t faulty mechanics or flat tires that had rendered them useless. They’d simply been deserted and left behind. Their owners had spent their last remaining funds in an attempt to flee from the east to as far west as they could manage, and they’d simply run out of gas. Or battery power. Or electricity. Cars ran on many types of power these days, but natural resources were scarce and terribly expensive. In a last ditch effort to turn things around the government had priced gasoline too high for most people to afford, and though many cars ran on electricity and rechargeable battery power, any type of transportation had fast become a luxury item. People here had simply driven as far as they could then resigned themselves to continue on foot.

  Liam agreed with her. “We’ll absolutely need to defend ourselves, our belongings, and our child. That’s what the guns are for.” He dropped his eyes and stared fixedly at her swollen belly. “Are you angry?”

  “Nope. Not angry. Just want to be a part of it. All of it. So don’t hide anything from me.” She tapped his knee. “We’re starting to move. Look.”

  The lines of cars had begun to move, the swirling red and blue lights of the police cars and early response vehicles growing ever closer. Ahead, several officers were stationed at the left side of each lane.

  “They’re stopping every car. What ever for?” Olivia asked incredulously.

  As they approached the blockade, her tension increased. The policemen ahead were reaching through car windows and examining driver’s licenses and other paperwork. Her stomach clenched as she observed how they were turning people away. Their grim faces were formidable, their mouths pressed into firm lines. One would carefully scrutinize the documentation and motion to his partners. A nod would grant the vehicle forward passage, while a shake of the head would signal a mandatory turn around.

  As Liam and Olivia inched ever closer to the blockade, more and more cars were being refused. A motorcade of them, forced off the road, was now cutting deep trenches into the grass at the side of the highway. They were being forced to complete a turnabout and travel back to the last exit. A concrete median in the middle of the road prevented them from utilizing the pavement and crossing back to the correct lanes. It was madness! As a result, vehicles were weaving in and out of stalled cars, some of the drivers angry and others red-faced and crying. Why wouldn’t the cops let the cars take the exit just ahead? Why did they have to cause such a disruption and force people to drive against the flow of traffic? A thought suddenly occurred to her. A very unsettling one.

  “Liam, what state license do you have?”

  His voice was calm but the lines around his eyes betrayed his anxiety.

  “Still New Jersey. I purchased the cabin years ago, but it’s always been a second home. I don’t have a Tennessee driver’s license.”

  She swallowed. “And the closing paperwork from the purchase. Do you have it?”

  He shook his head. “Liv, it’s been years since I purchased that house. I do have it but certainly not on me. Perhaps there’s an old tax bill in the glove compartment or a copy of my insurance policy with the house address listed?”

  She released the catch on the glove compartment and rifled through the contents. Car registration…New Jersey, insurance bill…New Jersey. Olivia sighed. No mention of Tennessee at all.

  “What escrow company did you close with?” she asked as she pulled her phone from her purse.

  “I think it was First United Title and Escrow.”

  Ahead of them, more cars were being turned away as she dialed the number for information. How could they prevent ingress at a state border? Was this even legal? And what of the people who were simply passing through, those who were trying to cut a path through Tennessee to head farther west? Her pulse began to race as they crept ever closer to the barricade.

  With the phone number to the escrow company in hand, she dialed, and then wilted when she received voice mail. Fewer people were purchasing homes these days. Most were using what little money and credit they had to stockpile food and other valuables. She set down the phone and cursed, despondent as she realized what would happen. They’d run out of time. They’d finally reached the front and she watched the exchange between the police officer and the car in front of them with trepidation. North Carolina plates, she noted with pursed lips.

  “So what do we do now?” she asked Liam.

  He sighed and leaned over to bury the gun far beneath his seat. “I think we’re about to be turned away, Liv and if we are, we’ll just figure it out. Okay?”

  Distracted, she watched the exchange in front of them. The man in the driver’s seat was waiving his hands manically, while the passenger was slumped strangely against the opposite door. Liam rolled down the window and Olivia could hear the man’s loud protests.

  “Officer,” he was explaining heatedly to the blond cop at his window, “my family and I are headed to Denver. We’re not about to turn around and lose a day and a half just to try the roads through Alabama. Who’s to say this same bullshit isn’t happening there?”

  The policeman shared a glance with his partner who’d now taken a step closer.

  “Sir, I’m going to ask you one more time to watch your language. There are plenty more routes to Denver. Tennessee is closed to all who aren’t residents with proper paperwork. Now turn around and head back the way you came.” Blond cop’s brow suddenly wrinkled and he narrowed his eyes. “Sir, is that your wife? Is she okay?”

  The driver ignored the question.

  “My family and I need to get through. This is some kinda shit. I’m not turning around and that’s final. This is a public road. You can’t stop people from using public roads.”

  The policeman took a bold step forward and peered closer into the window. “Sir, I asked you a question. Your wife. Is she ill?” Olivia watched as he pushed his head through the opening and set his hands to the sill. “Ma’am? Everything all right in there? Excuse me. Ma’am?”

  With an abruptness that was shocking, the North Carolinian driver pushed his door open, leaped from the vehicle, and pulled a small handgun from the waistband of his jeans. The cop was thrown backward and landed hard against the pavement. Armed officials swarmed the scene in a matter of seconds, their guns raised and trained on the disturbed man. The nearest gave the order.

  “Drop it sir. Drop it and place your hands above your head.”

  Olivia shrank from the scene. She could feel Liam’s rising panic as he tried to lean over and shelter her with his body.

  “Sir, the gun,” the officer was repeating, “I need you to drop it now. I won’t ask you again.”

  The moment hung in the air, heavy and tense until a sob tore from the gunman. He lowered his weapon, but didn’t drop it completely, and cupped his left palm to his knee. “Laura,” he moaned.

  With the man’s head now slightly bowed, the policemen cautiously advanced in unison. The one who’d fallen had scrambled to his feet and was now seizing the opportunity to make a personal connection.

  “What about Laura, Sir? Is she in need of medical assistance?”
/>   The man shook his head and moaned. “Laura. My Laura.”

  The cops exchanged glances. A tall, slim officer with salt and pepper hair moved cautiously for the door and peered inside.

  “Ma’am? Can we offer you aid?”

  Olivia could see his startled expression even before he’d said the words. He pulled his head back from the window, his hand cupped around his nose. “There’s a kid in there! In the back! Jesus, I think the woman’s dead.”

  Salt and pepper moved for the backseat and tore at the door handle, but didn’t get far. Smoothly, the gunman lifted his weapon, leveled it on the officer, and pulled the trigger.

  The shot was deafening and Olivia didn’t even realize she’d screamed until Liam was practically on top of her. Her voice sounded shrill in her ears as she struggled to untangle herself from his crushing arms. From the right corner of her front window, she could see the rear passenger door opening and a tiny child stepping onto the road.

  “Let me…see,” she complained as she pushed at Liam’s chest. “Liam, I’m fine. Let me see.”

  He lifted from her, though only slightly, and she craned her neck in an effort to see the small child. Quite thin, and obviously frightened, he could be no more than three or four. He clutched tight to a blanket, thumb planted firmly in his mouth as he moved to his mother’s door. His small hand began fumbling at the handle and Olivia’s eyes darted to the officers. She didn’t think they’d yet seen.

  The salt and pepper officer was clearly dead, his body bloodied and crumpled on the ground. Olivia tried to swallow but her throat had gone dry. There was just too much blood. Too much. The other officers were tense, all previous attempts to make empathetic connections with the gunman now abandoned. The blond cop found his voice first.

  “Drop your weapon sir or we’ll be forced to shoot you down. Do it now. I won’t ask again.”

  The man sobbed as he peered at the dead officer on the ground. “I can’t do this by myself,” he muttered to himself. “Can’t raise him alone. Can’t give him a good life. Not without her.”